


Crown of Love, Crown of Lies

by mischiefgoddesscomplex



Category: Tasertricks - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU where Darcy has no prior knowledge or interactions with Asgard(ians), Angst, Arranged Marriage, Both are lonely, Darcy is curious, Dark Humor, Drama, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Loki is misunderstood, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Smut, aka just some pot cuz I imagine Darcy is into that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefgoddesscomplex/pseuds/mischiefgoddesscomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You have to want to," His voice seems to crawl across her skin, dark and seductive.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Darcy shifts her weight from her left to her right, weighing the pros and cons. He's a criminal, convicted of god knows what crimes, and he's inviting her (quite literally) straight into the wolf's den. But her heart still skips a beat as her eyes meet his, before wildly pounding away again in her throat.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Well, Miss Lewis?" He asks, his words filling the silence, "Do you want to?"</i></p><div class="center">
  <p>_____________________</p>
</div>The good news is that Ragnarok hadn't completely destroyed Earth before the Aesir put an end to the apocalypse. A new world order is in place, a peace treaty is signed between Midgard and Asgard and - in a medieval move - they've agreed upon an arranged marriage between a woman of earth and the prince of Asgard as a sign of good faith. The bad news? Darcy is that woman.<p>EDIT: on indefinite hiatus!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, I'm back with a new story! I got such a great response after my last story that I decided to jump right into this one! Unfortunately, I won't be able to post as frequently as I did with my last work, since I'm back at university and summer break is over. Alas, I hope to update as often as I can!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this one. It's a work in progress, but I have a pretty clear idea of where I'd like it to go. Then again, when writing these two, things can always change ;) Please leave kudos and comments! Can't wait to board this crazy tasertricks train once again :)

_"But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness,_  
 _Like a heartbeat, drives you mad."_  
 _\- Dreams,_ Fleetwood Mac

____________________________________________

Darcy Lewis has never been lucky. Not when she was the eighth caller instead of the ninth to win tickets to go see Arcade Fire - one of her favorite bands ever - last summer. Not when all she craved all day long last week was a baja blast from Taco Bell, and when she pulled into the drive through that night after work, they were sold out. Not even when the Norse apocalypse had laid waist to Earth, and somehow only _her_ apartment living room and bedroom ended up with water damage. On the third floor. Wedged between two other completely unharmed neighboring rooms.

Like, god forbid anything good _ever_ happen in her life.

That's why she's not at all concerned when she hears about The Lottery.

“This is some kind of bullshit,” She comments, scooping up another spoonful of Captain Crunch cereal and shoveling it into her mouth before gesturing towards the tv with her spoon, “Can they really do that?”

The national news program is playing an announcement regarding the stipulations of the recently signed peace treaty between Asgard and Midgard. This is all following the accidental destruction of half the world when Ragnarok accidentally spilled over a few dimensions and wreaked havoc on Earth before the Asgardians could put a stop to it. 

Now, in a sign of good faith that nothing of the sort will ever happen again, Asgard has offered up the hand of their prince in marriage to a woman of Earth. The news caster is spewing some kind of crap about uniting the two worlds through marriage. Darcy thinks it sounds incredibly medieval - like a stunt that Game of Thrones might pull - and wonders who in the hell thought this would ever be a good idea. Then again, this wouldn’t be the first time world politics was making her shake her head. 

According to the news broadcast, all single women between the ages of eighteen and thirty living on Earth were going to be entered into a lottery type system to determine who would have the honor of becoming the first Asgardian princess from Earth. Technically, at age twenty-five, this puts Darcy squarely in the target market, but she’s not the least bit concerned about being selected, nor does she want to be. The broadcaster had just said the amount of single women in that age bracket had to be anywhere between ten and twelve million. 

“What did you say, sweetie?” Darcy’s mother asks, poking her head out of the kitchen. 

“I said, ‘Can they really do that?’” Darcy repeats herself, setting down her bowl and leaning back into the couch. 

“Darcy, in the past few years I’ve seen aliens drop out of the sky, magical do-dads and gizmos blow up entire city blocks, and gods and monsters fighting each other in our own backyard,” Her mother replies with a nonchalant sigh, “This is the least surprising thing I’ve heard in a long time. Oh, and if you’re done with that bowl, put it in the dishwasher!”

Darcy groans loudly in protest, tipping her head back on the couch. Her mother’s cat, Peanut, jumps up and begins to rub herself against Darcy’s arm until Darcy scratches her head in compliance. She’s currently living with her mother and step-father again just outside of New York City until she can find a new residency, a search that’s taking her longer than she’d hoped. Her old apartment had blown a water-main pipe that lead directly into her kitchen, completely destroying her whole living space.

As if reading Darcy’s thoughts, her mother speaks up again, “By the way, how’s the apartment hunt going, sweetie?” 

“Fine,” Darcy lies through her teeth, hoping her mother will drop it. She instantly pushes herself off of the living room couch and goes to deposit her bowl in the dishwasher, hoping to avoid further conversation of the sort. 

“Fine as in you’ve found a place?” Her mother asks as she opens the dishwasher door for Darcy. Darcy knows her mother loves her, but she can also tell she’s starting to miss having the house to herself and her husband. She can’t really blame her, either. 

“Fine as in I’ve _almost_ found a place,” Darcy replies tersely, setting her bowl down with a little more clang than she intended for, “I just need a roommate.” 

“Didn’t I tell you Carol across the street has a daughter about your age who just graduated college? I bet you she’d be interested!”

“Mom, no. Carol’s daughter is straight-up weird. Isn’t she the one who tried to eat my doll’s hair when we were little kids?”

“Maybe…”

“Yeah, no.”

Darcy turns on her heel, trying to leave the kitchen before her mother can suggest anything else. She catches the mention of another potential roommate as she walks down the hall and calls out back to her mother, “We’ll talk about it later, mom, I have to get to work!” 

________________________________________

Her cubicle at SHIELD is relatively small, covered in posters of her favorite bands and cute and vintage decorations she’d thrifted for, all color-schemed in purple. 

If anyone ever asks her what exactly her job entails, she’ll tell them with with narrowed eyes that it’s a classified government secret, just to be interesting. In reality, she does a whole lot of nothing all day long, mainly browsing the internet, shopping online, listening to music. Whenever a head honcho walks by she’ll be sure to pull up a spreadsheet or data interface of some sort…but who doesn’t do that at work? 

She'd started the job in college working as an intern for a woman named Miss Foster, whom she'd technically never even met. Eventually she was hired after college to get paid a full-time salary to do the job she was already a pro at - pushing paper and reviewing and organizing spreadsheets. It wasn't exactly what she had in mind, especially after getting her degree in political science, but after half the world was destroyed in Ragnarok, she was lucky to even have the job she did. 

Right now it’s mid-afternoon, the exact time Darcy she wishes she could literally be anywhere else in the world than at work, and her cube-mate Helen is sitting on her desk, flipping through a magazine. 

“So did you hear about The Lottery?” Helen asks, smacking on her gum and peering down at Darcy. 

“It’s all anyone’s been talking about all day, so, yeah,” Darcy replies without emotion, clicking through and editing a few spreadsheets for her supervisor, “I just scrolled through like, roughly a hundred tweets from girls professing their desire to be picked.”

“And you’re not freaking out about it?” Helen asks with confusion, setting down her magazine, “Literally all of my single friends are dying. Everyone wants to be picked! I swear, if Jeff hadn’t already proposed, I’d be the first in line to sleep with a prince.”

Darcy scrunches up her nose and makes a face, “I guess I just don’t see the point in freaking out. The odds of being picked are one in ten million, literally. And nobody asked for this - the leaders of the world can’t just force someone into a marriage like in some ancient outdated ritual. But for some reason every girl around is acting like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. Even if I did get picked - against the galactic odds - why would I want to marry some dude I’ve never even met?”

“Um, because he’s a god,” Helen replies, sighing like it should be obvious, “His dick is probably worshiped across the galaxy.” 

“Riiiight,” Darcy replies with a laugh, “Also, good to know you’d dump your husband if the opportunity to fuck a prince rolled around.”

Helen shrugs. “A girl can still dream. But hey, it won’t, and we’ll live happily ever after, temptation free,” She says with a wink before hoping off Darcy’s desk as Darcy playfully smacks her thigh with the magazine. 

________________________________________

Her room in her mom’s house is too small. It’s the room Darcy used to sleep in growing up, only now it’s been half-converted into her mom’s own personal workout space, complete with one whole elliptical and two sets of weights. Darcy’s stuff from her apartment is tucked away in boxes, almost stuffing the room to the brim, but she still hasn’t unpacked yet, even after months of living here. It’ll feel too real, she thinks, if she actually unpacks. Too permanent. So instead she only picks out the essentials when she needs them. 

And tonight, her essentials include some mellow tunes on her ipod, her pipe, and just a pinch of marijuana. 

Darcy doesn’t smoke often, especially now that she lives with her parents, but every now and then she’ll light up and take a hit or two. She used to indulge in the activity more often with her ex-boyfriend Shawn, but he ended up being a bummed-out wannabe-drummer for a crappy cover band who cheated on her. 

That was over two years ago: since then, she can’t tell if she’s been too picky with her men or not enough of them have been interested in her. Either way, it’s been forever and a day since she’s seen any action.

She sits down criss-cross on her futon/bed and pulls the blanket up around her lap as she sticks her earbuds in. She scrolls until she finds the right playlist - a mix of Bob Dylan, The Beatles, and Fleetwood Mac - and hits play before picking up her pipe and lighter. 

Sighing, Darcy takes one long hit and blows the smoke expertly out through the crack in the window, letting the first notes of _Dreams_ and Stevie Knicks’ voice float into her ears as her mind drifts back to her ex-boyfriend. 

Fucking Shawn. The only serious boyfriend she’d ever had and somehow he’d managed to ruin almost every notion of love she’s ever had. She thought she was in love: sure, the sex wasn’t _that_ great, and there was the whole “cheating on her” thing…but until then, she thought it was love. They did everything together, even though everything mostly always consisted of nothing. In hindsight she realized they barely ever even communicated with each other. Now she gets a pit in her stomach wondering if she’ll ever know what love really feels like. 

Maybe she should go on a date. Finally call one of the guys Helen is always recommending to her. Darcy usually hates that - it always feels so awkward going into a date _knowing_ you’ve been thrown together in a dating circumstance without a choice. Where is the wild romance in that? The passion, the spark, the butterflies of connecting with someone unexpectedly? She wants her stomach to flip excitedly at the idea of seeing someone for the first time, not the dread of stiff formalities. 

But maybe she doesn’t really have a choice, maybe beggars really can’t be choosers. Because lately, being alone has started to feel just plain lonely.

Darcy takes another hit right as the bedroom doorknob jiggles, and she hurriedly blows the smoke out the window before snuffing out the weed and throwing the pipe in the nightstand drawer. God, she feels like such a teenager. Darcy tries not to cough as her mother enters the room, and she yanks out her earbuds. 

“Just wanted to say goodnight, sweetie!” Her mother says in that overly affectionate tone Darcy knows so well. 

Darcy’s eyes are watering as she squeaks out “Night mom.” Her mom blows her a kiss in response and shuts the door behind her, leaving Darcy in a fit of coughing. 

Oh yeah. It’s definitely time to get out of this house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely readers! Thanks everyone for all the kudos and reviews so far! I'm taking my time with the build and set-up of the story here, and I promise to get the ball rolling between Darcy and Loki soon, but until then, just enjoy the sweet, sweet exposition :) It'll make everything all the more better in due-time!

How much cleavage is too much cleavage for a first date? Is there such a thing as too much cleavage? 

These are the life and death questions Darcy wrangles with as she prepares to go out with Devon, one of Helen’s friends, for the night. She chews on her lower lip, checking herself out in the bathroom mirror. 

Darcy considers herself an attractive woman, in general. She is proud of her wide hips, her full, round breasts - she was blessed with the perfect hourglass shape. And she knows how to flaunt it. Tonight she is dressed in a red, patterned, dress with a plunging neckline down to her sternum. The girls are definitely on display, more so than usual.

Darcy turns on one high black heel, hand on her hip, and studies her backside in the mirror with a smirk. Yes, this dress definitely does wonders on her body. As much fun as she has getting dolled up, she’d still trade it all for a comfy sweater and leggings given the chance. But for tonight, she’s going to live up her appearance. 

Her mom and stepfather are sitting on the couch watching the television as she walks out and grabs her purse on the kitchen counter. She wants to sneak out the front door without a fuss, but her mother turns around just in time to see Darcy’s hand on the doorknob.

“You’re going out?!” She asks, eyes wide, “But, The Lottery is being drawn tonight! It’s all over the news. They were just showing pictures of this prince - I can't remember his name for the life of me, but Darcy, he's gorgeous! Don't you want to stay and watch!? ”

“That’s probably half the reason I’m going out tonight,” Darcy groans, “Everyone’s so obsessed with this stupid lottery thing. Meanwhile some poor girl’s life is never going to be the same again in t-minus one hour.” 

“Hey now,” Her stepfather turns around, adjusting the oval, wire-rimmed glasses on his nose, “That poor girl could be you!”

“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or not?” Darcy chuckles with uncertainty as she opens the door, “But I highly, extremely, totally doubt it, anyway.”

________________________________________

To say the date is going poorly would be a tremendous understatement.

Nails-on-a-chalkboard, accidentally-hearing-tv-show-spoilers, last-page-of-your-book-missing kind of awfully abysmal would be more like it. 

The date started out inconspicuously enough. Devon was relatively average as far as men went: he wore a suit and vest that didn’t fit him exactly quite right, buzzed blackish/brownish hair, two perfectly expressionless looking eyes. No spark of instant attraction, but it’s not as though Darcy had been hoping for any, really. In a contrived setting like this, it would be a lot to ask for.

He had this sort of wheezing laugh that Darcy had hoped was just a one-time deal, but continued throughout drinks and the main course. She hates being so judgmental, but it grates on her nerves to the point that she is digging her nails into the underside of the table in annoyance. 

All of his questions somehow seem to turn right back around to himself, leaving Darcy little to no room at all to talk about herself. When, by some miracle, she is finally able to get a word in edge-wise, she notices him glancing at his phone on the table and scrolling through it. 

She’s all but completely given up on the date by the time dessert rolls around, wondering why she ever thought agreeing to this could have been a good idea. Darcy is scraping at her assortment of chocolate covered strawberries (normally her favorite, but this schmuck has sucked all of the joy out of her evening), when she realizes he’s actually asking her a question. _About herself_. 

“What?” Darcy coughs, looking up and snapping out of her daydream where she’s back at her mother’s house, binge watching Breaking Bad and smoking the rest of her marijuana. 

“I said, ‘What do you do for fun?’” Devon repeats himself, pulling out his wallet to pay for the meal. At least he had the common courtesy for that much. 

“Um, let me think,” Darcy responds, her mind actually spinning for a response for the first time all night, “I like to read. Write. I play the guitar, which not too many people know, because it’s been a while since I’ve performed - ” 

“Sorry, I just realized I forgot my card,” Devon cuts her off, a sickly sweet apologetic look on his face, “You got this one?”

Darcy blinks at him as she sets her mouth into a hard line. Aaaand this is why she hates being set up. 

“This is _not cool_ ,” She says, scraping her chair back against the hardwood floor loudly, “This is, like, one hundred percent the opposite of cool, dude.”

“I’ll pay for the next date?” He asks suggestively with a hopeful look in his eyes. 

“Nope,” Darcy says, standing up and grabbing her purse, “Because there will be no next date. I’d get back to the kitchen and start washing dishes if I were you.”

She begins to march out, leaving him sitting there dumbfounded with his jaw hanging open, but not before she pauses to deliver one final dig, “Oh, and dude? If you ever want a girl to be into you, eye contact might do the trick. Your iPhone might be nice but it sure as hell isn’t gunna get you laid.” 

Darcy can hear people snickering as she walks out, and smiles smugly to herself. Time to go home, lay around in sweatpants all night, and cry over Jesse Pinkman. Finally. 

She isn’t even mad really, as she hails down a cab to take her home. Honestly, she’s just disappointed in herself for even agreeing to be put in a situation like that. If love ever happens for Darcy Lewis, it sure as hell isn’t going to be pre-arranged. This much she knows for sure. 

The cab driver is listening to a news radio program as she crawls into the car and - surprise - they’re covering The Lottery. Apparently a name will be drawn “any minute now!” and it’s “such an honor for the women of Earth!” Darcy sighs as she asks the cab driver to please change the station. 

Settling down into her seat, she whips out her phone to text somebody - anybody - about the date from hell before realizing…she doesn’t really have anyone _to_ text. Maybe Helen, but she was more of a work friend anyway, plus she had been the one who had set her up in the first place. There isn’t really any one friend of hers that she communicates with on a regular basis...no one to share any gossip or good news with. God, how sad was that? Had she really let herself become so alone? 

Surprisingly, Darcy’s phone buzzes with a message before it shuts off completely (damn low battery) and she groans before stuffing it back into her purse. Typical Darcy Lewis. 

When she gets home, she doesn’t really feel like fending off questions from her mother and stepfather, so she puts her head down as she unlocks the door, walking in barefoot with heels in her hand. She can see her mother out of the corner of her eye - standing in the living room staring at her with a look of shock, the phone pressed to her ear. Her stepfather sits on couch, staring at her with a similar expression. 

Darcy rolls her eyes as she walks past them and into the kitchen. “I know I'm home early, I don’t wanna talk about it!” She calls out, yanking open the freezer and pulling out a carton of fudge brownie Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. “The guy was a jerk and I am officially undateable. This is all you need to know.” 

When she walks past the living room again on her way to her bedroom, they are still both staring at her with the most stupefied looks on their faces. 

“Jeez, it’s not that shocking,” Darcy grumbles, tearing off the lid of her ice cream and sticking her spoon inside. “My date went awful. What else is new.” 

She looks between her mother and her stepfather, and they look between themselves before her mother slowly lowers the phone from her ear, turning it off with a beep. 

“Darcy…you...you don’t know?” 

“Don’t know… _what?_ ” Darcy asks, licking off the ice cream with a popping noise. That’s when she notices the television in the center of the room. And her name plastered all over the news program. 

Darcy’s lungs fill with air as she sucks in a deep, ragged breath. Her spoon falls out of her hand and lands on the ground with a hard clang. Meanwhile, her mother’s mouth twitches into a wide grin, and she rushes over to her daughter with enthusiasm. 

“Oh Darcy, isn’t it wonderful?!” Her mother exclaims, “They’ve picked you! You’re going to marry a prince! A Norse God prince!” 

Well…wonderful wasn’t exactly the first word that had come to Darcy’s mind. _Oh, Fuck,_ had been more like it.


	3. Chapter 3

  
_"Everybody takes forever to fall asleep,_  
 _Everybody's got a life they don't want to keep._  
 _Everybody needs a prayer, and needs a friend_  
 _Everybody knows the world's about to end."_  
\- _Lean_ , The National

____________________________________________

Darcy considers never recharging her phone ever again and letting the wretched thing die, still stuffed with unread messages and unheard voicemails from people pretending to suddenly care about her.

In the span of one night, she has gone from just another face in the crowd to the number one most popular Google search. For some this might be too much to handle, but Darcy expertly locks herself in her room, pulls her blankets over her head, and screams into the pillow. 

“Darcy hunny! Come out of your room!” Her mom calls from the other side of the door at some point in the night, “Your Aunt Carol is on the phone, and she’s dying to talk to the new Princess of Asgard!”

“Tell Aunt Carol the new princess isn’t taking calls right now!” Darcy grumbles, rolling over onto her back and staring at the ceiling. Dozens upon dozen of photographs she had taken in high school and college still remain taped to the ceiling, and Darcy feels so far removed staring at them now.

She's not going to be living in New York anymore. Hell, she's not even going to be living on _Earth_ anymore. At least that takes care of the apartment search, she thinks sardonically. Princesses don't live in apartments. They live in palaces. 

_Princess_. God, that sounds so totally foreign. She can’t believe her name had actually been selected out of the millions of candidates. Or maybe she can. This isn’t such a stretch really - things haven’t quite been going her way in a long time. Maybe this is just the fated cherry on top. The thought almost causes her to laugh hysterically. Only her, right? 

Darcy can hear her mother on the phone through the walls all night, chatting excitingly with news crews, setting up interviews, appointments, and everything in between. It’s enough to make Darcy’s head hurt. This is exactly what her mother has been dreaming of - finally getting Darcy out of the house. Even though she’d never admit that. 

At some point, she can’t take listening to her mom any longer. She groans, finally reaching for her iPod and stuffing in her earbuds, drowning out the noise of her mom with help from The National. 

When she falls asleep that night, her thoughts are hazy and sporadic. She can’t recall what she dreams about, but when she wakes in the morning, the image of a dark green serpent sticks out clearly in her mind. Weird. And there are goosebumps on her skin. Darcy had fallen asleep with the knowledge that everything was going to be different, but as her eyes open and she draws in a sharp breath, the aura of change is palpable.

________________________________________

“Mom, I guarantee you I’m not going to need three pairs of running shoes on Asgard. I don’t even run _here_. I doubt my exercise routine is going to change once I’m in space.”

Darcy’s mother looks slightly dejected as she sets down the boxes of new shoes on Darcy’s bed. Suitcases are strewn across the room, packed to the brim with all of her clothing, books, personal objects, and mementos. Tonight was her last official night on earth - and her first official time meeting her soon-to-be husband. 

Darcy had spent the last week appearing on national news programs, talk shows and radio shows. The publicity tour was so much of a blur that Darcy barely remembers any of it - just forcing a smile until her cheeks hurt and squinting into bright studio lights, face caked in makeup. 

She hates it. Hates the spotlight, being the center of attention. She’d loved to act in plays as a kid, and even used to perform her own songs on her guitar at open mic night at her college campus - but those were on so much smaller scales than this. All her life, she’d always imagined it would be so glamorous to have the whole world watching you. But now, after only a measly seven days, she’s already wishing she could crawl into a hole and hide.

“Well, I’ll let you finish packing on your own then,” Her mother sighs with a small smile and tears in her eyes. 

Her mom has the attitude and mentality of watching a kindergartener start school for the first time, or sending an only child off to college. Both of these things Darcy has already lived through, but it’s just so strange to see her mother behaving this way for her daughter’s pre-arranged marriage to a Norse god. 

“God, mom, please, don’t cry,” Darcy begs in a serious tone, “I’m not dying. Just getting married. To a stranger. Under government orders. Which…might actually be worse…”

Her mother wipes her eyes and wraps Darcy into a tight hug, “Oh sweetie, you’ll be just fine. They're calling you the first 'Midgardian' Princess of Asgard. I’m just so proud of you.” 

Proud? Darcy doesn’t exactly understand what she’s done to warrant her mother’s pride, but she lets it go and hugs her back. Must be a mom thing. 

“Finish packing and I’ll take you into the city in an hour; they’re meeting you at the Central Park Ritz,” Her mom says, letting go of Darcy, “This is all so exciting!”

Darcy rolls her eyes at her mother as she leaves. There could be worse things…

________________________________________

There are camera flashes going off all around the car as her mother pulls up to the front of the hotel. Darcy squints and holds up one hand.

“Maybe it would be better if you dropped me off a block away?” Darcy asks hopefully, but one glance at her mother is all it takes to know that she’s positively eating up all the attention.

“No, you’ll be fine! They’ve rolled out a red carpet for you and everything...look!” Her mom points excitedly to the path leading into the hotel, flanked by the media. Darcy groans, readjusting the straps on her dark blue dress. 

Her mom is suddenly leaning over the console, embracing Darcy in a fierce hug, “Alright, your luggage is already inside. I’ll see you in a month on Asgard for the wedding. I love you so much sweetie.” 

“Love you too, mom,” Darcy mumbles into her mother’s shoulders, hugging her back just as tightly. 

As soon as Darcy steps out of the car, there is a whirl of shouting voices and flashing cameras, all vying for her attention. She holds her head high (something she’s been practicing in the mirror all week), and walks quickly to the door, where a member of the hotel staff and what looks like government agents (undoubtedly SHIELD) are ready to escort her. 

“Miss Lewis,” the concierge greets her, taking her hand, “If you’ll follow me, your party is waiting in one of our private dining rooms.”

“Ok,” Darcy manages to reply hoarsely, suddenly feeling very nervous and incredibly thirsty. As she walks with her escorts, a sudden, jarring thought almost stops her in her tracks: she cannot, for the life of her, remember the dude’s name. 

It had been something super Norse-sounding, obviously. She’d recognize it if she heard it, for sure. But as she racks her brains now, she’s coming up empty every time. Well, this should make for a fun first impression. 

A grand set of doors open before her, and she stares at the sight before her in the room. Standing around a dinner table are three men and a woman, all chatting animatedly with each other. But the strangest thing, to Darcy, is how they are dressed - all in extravagant viking attire. It looks like a scene out of a goddamn Shakespeare play. 

“Um, hey?” Darcy calls out with uncertainty, looking at the group as she walks into the room. 

At the sound of her voice, all four stop talking and look over at her with curiosity. The skinny, blonde man comes up and takes his hand in hers, kissing the top, which makes Darcy blush on instinct.

“Lady Darcy Lewis,” He says with a twinkle in his eye, “A pleasure. Words did not do you justice; you are even more beautiful than they have described. I am Fandral of Asgard, and a member of the Warrior’s Three.” 

Okay, so that’s definitely not the prince she’s been set up with, but his warm embrace is still comforting in this foreign atmosphere. She’s introduced to the other two men standing behind Fandral: Hogun and Volstagg (still not the prince), and then the woman steps forward. 

“Lady Darcy,” She nods cooly, and Darcy feels a little put-off by her gaze. She gets the odd feeling that this woman isn’t exactly as enthusiastic as her male counterparts. “I am the warrior, Sif.” 

“Nice to meet you all,” Darcy smiles at the group, feeling slightly more at ease. She bites her lip slightly as the question she’s been wanting to ask burns on her tongue. “So, um, where exactly is…uh…?” 

“Ah, yes, you must be wondering where your prince is,” Fandral smiles warmly at her before his gaze lingers just beyond her shoulders, “…and speak of the devil…”

The doors to the room swing open once more. Darcy whirls around just in time to see a man - taller than the rest by far - stride into the room with a pearly white smile and the hair of a Disney prince. 

“Lady Darcy, meet your future husband,” Fandral introduces him from behind her, “Thor Odinson, the crown prince of Asgard.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! I'm really anxious to post more of this story; especially to introduce Loki in the next few chapters coming up. Things may take a darker turn eventually, but until then, enjoy the ride. :) kudos and comments are what keep me going!

_Thor_. Right. That was definitely it. 

The tall Norseman seems to command the presence of the entire room as he walks in, his flowing dirty blonde hair falling to his shoulders, with rugged facial hair to match. Definitely handsome - in that classic way reserved for ancient gods. His blue eyes are piercing - but they are tinged with kindness - and when they land on Darcy, he smiles warmly. 

“You must be the Lady Darcy,” Thor greets her, taking her hand and kissing the top, “Unfortunately, it looks as though Fandral beat me to the introduction.” He shoots a dirty look at his friend behind Darcy’s shoulder, but she can see the playful smirk on his face to offset it, “I am Thor Odinson.”

“Hey - um, hi - I mean, hello…your grace?” Darcy addresses him with uncertainty. 

Thor makes a face, “My lady, ‘your grace’ is for the common folk. You are not common folk any longer. Please, call me Thor! We are to be married, after all.”

“Right,” Darcy smiles awkwardly, letting go of a deep breath she didn’t realize she was holding. He isn’t as bad as she had imagined, definitely kinder than she had hoped for. Unfortunately, she just can’t shake the feeling of contrived formalities as they talk in the dining room, surrounded by Thor’s comrades and the hoards of SHIELD security detail. 

“I apologize for not meeting you sooner,” Thor says honestly, “After the All-Father informed me of his plan to arrange a marriage between myself and a woman of Midgard, I confess it gave me little time to prepare. Midgard was not the only world affected by Ragnarok - though it was affected the worst - and I was preoccupied with diplomatic business on other realms.”

Darcy has a hard time wrapping her head around some of his foreign words, but nods sympathetically anyway, “It’s cool man, you’re cool. Gotta admit this whole thing took me by surprise, too. Still kinda is.” 

“I’m sure you have many questions,” Thor says, “And I have much to show you. Perhaps you’d like to see Asgard as we discuss them?” 

“Wha - uh, right now? We’re leaving right now?” Darcy asks, suddenly extremely fidgety. “How are we getting there, don’t we need to take a spaceship or something?”

That earns a round of boisterous laughs from Thor and his viking friends, and Darcy instantly feels embarrassed for asking. Great. That's one way to make fun of the new girl.

“You’ve got humor, Lady Darcy,” Thor chuckles, standing nearer to her and wrapping his arm around her waist as he pulls her into his chest. Darcy stiffens at the suddenly close contact as he looks up towards the ceiling and bellows, “Heimdall, open the Bifrost please!”

To Darcy’s surprise, the ceiling begins to open up, revealing a portal in a swirl of lights and colors. She’d seen this on grainy news footage from the apocalypse, but she never thought she’d ever be standing underneath one. 

A singular beam of bright white light encases them, and then Darcy’s stomach plummets out from underneath her as her feet leave the ground. In what feels like the blink of an eye, they’ve traveled from the hotel dining room in New York City to an ornate, spinning, golden dome, still whizzing with the sounds of the portal. 

Darcy looks around as Thor loosens his grip on her waist. His friends appear behind them, and finally the contraption whirls to a halt. Darcy’s pretty sure her mouth is hanging open, but she can’t help it - everything is happening so fast and she feels like her brain is kicking into overdrive trying to keep up. 

“Welcome to Asgard Lady Darcy. I am Heimdall,” The gorgeous gate-keeper says, easily north of six feet tall with smoldering golden eyes. 

“Jeesh, is everyone on this planet insanely good-looking?” Darcy blurts out before she can help herself. It earns a few chuckles from everyone in the room, and Heimdall smiles politely.

“Come, Lady Darcy,” Thor says, gesturing with one hand as he leads her out of the golden dome behind his friends, “Walk with me. I’ve already sent a team of guards to Midgard to retrieve your luggage, and it should be here shortly. We have much to talk about.” 

Darcy is instantly struck by the beauty of the shimmering, transparent rainbow road they are walking on. Further down the road on the horizon, she spots what is, undoubtedly, the kingdom of Asgard. She lets out a low whistle of awe. 

Thor smiles kindly as they make their way towards it, “It’s impressive, isn’t it? I regret taking such beauty for granted in my youth. I’m only glad we were able to preserve it during Ragnarok.”

“Yeah, my entire apartment got trashed,” Darcy offers up woefully, shrugging her shoulders, “But I heard entire cities were destroyed, so I probably shouldn’t complain too much.” 

“My condolences,” Thor says in a manner that seems sincere enough, “Many realms have been faced with similar hardships. Ragnarok was never meant to spill out into other dimensions...”  


Darcy can hear the hesitation at the end of his sentence, so she takes advantage of it, “So…why did it?” 

Thor sets his mouth into a hard line, visibly uncomfortable by the question, “Perhaps you’d like to discuss things of a more lighthearted nature?” 

Darcy entertains the brief thought that “more lighthearted” for her isn’t saying much, given her circumstances, but she nods her head anyway. She’s honestly still grappling with the idea that the man she’s talking to is about to be her husband. He is undeniably attractive, but just like she feared, there had yet to be a spark of _attraction_. Darcy knows the difference is all too real. 

“I promise you’ll live a tranquil and comfortable life here on Asgard, with no fear of losing your home ever again,” Thor says, shaking her from her thoughts, “You’ll be the queen, once I inherit the throne from my father.” 

“Well, just a little warning upfront, I have no idea how to be a queen,” Darcy states blankly, “Hell, I don’t even know how to be a princess. Are you sure it’s not too late to go back and redraw a new name for your bride?”

Thor laughs as he pats her hard on the back encouragingly, “Lady Darcy, trust me, you will do fine. The wedding is to be within a month’s time, anyway, which is far too short notice for a new bride.” The contact is once again a little awkward, and Darcy really does not feel any more reassured, but there is nothing she can do now except take a shaky breath and accept it. 

They’re entering the palace gates now, and a row of beautiful marble columns caught in twisting vines leads them down through the courtyard. It’s truly gorgeous; so far, the beautiful scenery has helped Darcy adjust to the change the most. Thor’s comrades stand talking just inside the marble entryway to the palace in front of them. Overhead, Darcy can hear the cawing of ravens, and she swears she can see a snake slithering between the columns as they walk, but before she can say anything, Thor speaks again. 

“I apologize in advance for what I am about to tell you,” He says solemnly, “I know you’ve only just arrived, and you are still unaccustomed. But I must finish visiting with the diplomats from other realms before our wedding. I wish I could stay and get to know you better, but there will be time for that after the wedding, I promise you.”

 _Great_ , Darcy thinks wryly, _Marry the man first, and then get to know him. That’s how it’s usually done, right?_

“Oh, okay,” Is what she says out loud, “What am I supposed to do until then?”

“There is much on Asgard for you to entertain yourself with,” Thor answers with an encouraging smile, “You’ll have plenty of time to familiarize yourself with your new palace. Thank you for understanding, Lady Darcy.”

Thor takes her hand in his and gently kisses the top once more, but this time, Darcy doesn’t feel as warmed by the contact as before. Now she feels just as desolate and lonely as ever. Thor excuses himself for a moment, going to talk with Sif, who is staring at him impatiently from under the entryway. 

Darcy stands there in the courtyard, folding her arms over her chest and rubbing her forearms for warmth. She wishes she had worn one of her comfy, over-sized wool sweaters, and, as if to emphasize her point, a chilly breeze blows by. 

She watches on as Thor and Sif converse in hushed voices, and that’s when Sif shoots her a pointed look in the middle of their conversation. Darcy tries awkwardly to avert her gaze so as not to be conspicuous. Beautiful as this place may be, Darcy gets the distinct and unnerving impression that it’s with-holding secrets from her. 

Another cool breeze blows by, but this one feels somehow different, and it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Darcy whirls around, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that she’s being watched. There is nothing behind her but dead leaves rattling in the wind between columns. She swears she sees a shadow behind one of them, but before she can call out, Thor has returned to her side.

“Are you ready to go inside?” He asks cheerfully, snapping Darcy’s attention back to him. 

Darcy blinks once, putting the shadow thing to the back of her mind. Whatever it was, it was gone now. She puts on a brave face and looks up at Thor. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! Apologies, this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I decided to break it up! Which means I'll be posting again in a day or two, so that's good news :) reviews and kudos are appreciated!

Thor leaves after Darcy’s first week on Asgard.

It’s not that she has time to see much of him before then anyway. It seems like he’s always busy with something, and as the prince of a kingdom in the aftermath of a multi-dimensional apocalypse, Darcy can’t really say she blames him, either. 

So she spends much of her time alone. Which isn’t really very different than her life on Earth, except for now, she has an entire palace at her disposal. 

As far as her "adjustment period" goes, it isn't too terrible. She misses her mother a little - and her stepfather - but the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that there really was no one else back home for her to miss. She's a floater - not really sure what home actually means to her anymore.

Darcy dismisses her personal team of handmaidens on the first day because, god, how weird is it to have someone clothe you if you’re over the age of five? Darcy was perfectly capable of doing that on her own, thank you very much. Besides, the ornate gowns they called “casual wear” were way too much for her. She quickly opted for her own clothing and prayed she could get away with it for as long as possible. 

Exploring the massive palace inch by inch, inside and outside, has become part of her daily routine. She has a feeling it will take her way longer than a month to discover every nook and cranny, but she enjoys spending time strolling through the corridors. And sometimes she’ll bring her iPod with her for good measure. 

It’s at some point during her second week on Asgard that she discovers the palace library. Tucked away in the west wing of the palace, two beautiful oak doors had opened to reveal rows upon rows of books on two whole floors, connected by a spiral staircase in the middle of the room. The size of the room easily doubles that of her old campus library at college, and she stares in awe at the selection before her. 

Oh, _hell yes_. 

She looses track of time in the library that night, pulling books from the shelves as she eagerly devours the stories inside. If there’s one thing that helps Darcy feel at home, no matter where she is, it’s a good book. Well, that and her iPod. 

Halfway through the night, one thing in particular manages to catch her eye. 

She’s in the history section of the library, pouring over a lot of old books that appear to be written in some kind of foreign language. It’s the beautifully detailed pictures, however, that hold her interest. 

She’s flipping through them when she realizes entire pages of illustrations have been ripped out. Then she sees an illustration of Thor, fighting alongside...someone...but their picture has been removed as well. At first she thinks it must just be a fluke, but it happens so frequently, and in so many books, that she knows it has to have been deliberate. Almost as if they were trying to rewrite someone from their history books. But who?

And why?

At some point late in the night, before she realizes it, Darcy is rubbing the tiredness from her eyes, finally setting down one of the books she’d pulled down from the fiction section. She sits up groggily from the chaise she’s been reading in. 

The moonlight is streaming in through the windows - which amazes her - because when she last looked up, there was still plenty of sunlight. The lamps in the library had automatically switched on, powered by flickering candles concealed within their holders. Darcy briefly wonders how they had been lit, and that’s when she hears the squeak of a floorboard behind her. 

She turns around to look over her shoulder, but there is no one there. Just stacks and stacks of books illuminated by the moon. She shivers slightly, not because she is cold, but because suddenly being alone in a dark library in the middle of the night feels just a tad more ominous. 

Darcy pushes herself off the couch and makes her way out of the library. It’s only once she’s in the darkened hallways that she realizes she’s never been alone in the palace at night. It takes on an entirely different feel - a little more magical, but also more secretive, more foreboding. It’s also incredibly disorientating. 

A little spark of adrenaline jolts through her as she walks down the hall, her footsteps echoing around her. She huffs in frustration trying to remember the way she came earlier in the day, each minute passing by with no avail. _Down the stairs, second left, under the archway, take the first right after that…or was it first left? It was definitely the first left. Dammit. And - wait a minute - isn’t that the same marble bust of the bearded viking dude you passed twenty minutes ago?_

Just as she’s about to abandon all hope and lie down in the middle of the hallway to fall asleep from exhaustion, she hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her. 

“Hello?” She calls out, turning around just in time to see a shadow slowly slink away through a corridor. First the courtyard, then the library, and now this? Now she _knows_ someone has been watching her.

Be it the exhaustion, desperation, nothing-to-lose attitude or a mix of all three, Darcy follows the direction of the shadow, just around the corner. Her heart beats wildly in her chest. What if it was some kind of ghost, or spirit? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

It’s too late to turn back now, she figures, as she rounds the corner with hesitation. Her eyes follow the length of the shadow on the floor - and her gaze falls on a tall man, standing by an open window.

The gold plates on his chest are illuminated by the moonlight, but he is otherwise shrouded in darkness. His pale, handsome face is silhouetted to her, and she traces the hard lines of his face, down his nose, across his striking cheekbones. 

His dark hair falls down to his shoulders, and his stance emulates total control…and something a bit more sinister somehow. He seems stoic, staring out one of the windows into the courtyard below. Darcy wonders if he even knows she’s standing there, but that’s when he opens his mouth. 

“Miss Lewis,” He drawls without looking at her, and she wonders if that’s a smile on his lips or a trick of the light.

“Who are you? Why do you know my name?” Darcy asks, bubbling with curiosity as she takes a step closer to him. “Have you been following me?” 

“So many questions, so little time,” He says in a voice soft as velvet, now turning his head to look at her full-on. His green eyes seem to pierce right through her, crinkling a little at the edges as he smirks. With one look, it feels as though he’s discovering the inner-most mechanisms of her very soul, and it causes her breath to hitch. 

“Your room,” The man says with a tilt of his chin, gesturing to the door just behind Darcy. 

She turns around and stares at the door, amazed that she has actually managed to find her way back. She turns back around, her voice full of quiet astonishment as she says, “How did you…?”

The end of her question trails off, because the stranger is gone. In the blink of the eye, he has completely disappeared. Darcy raises one eyebrow curiously to herself, wondering what the hell had just happened. Odd as the man had been, there was something about him that seemed to lure her in…but he was gone before she could figure out exactly why. 

A rather large yawn finds its way out of Darcy’s mouth, and that’s when she realizes that right now, bed is her number one priority. She’s asleep before her head even hits the pillow. 

And as she closes her eyes, it’s the mysterious stranger’s face that is etched perfectly across her eyelids.


	6. Chapter 6

“Holy _shit!_ ”

Darcy gasps for air and grasps wildly at her sides as her handmaiden yanks back the strings on her corset. She had insisted she could dress herself for her wedding, but a team of handmaidens were sent on royal orders to assist her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Now, almost after two whole hours of preparation (including: hair, makeup, eyebrow waxing, dress alterations and jewelry selections), Darcy is finally almost ready. Her handmaiden helps her delicately slip on her dress, which is by far the most expensive piece of clothing Darcy has ever even seen, let alone worn. 

The material is a stunning midnight blue color, encrusted with microscopic diamonds that shimmer every time they catch the light. It’s absolutely stunning, and Darcy can’t help but twirl around a little and check herself out in the mirror. 

The bodice is tight, and the corset she’s wearing underneath only emphasizes that. She eyes her chest in the mirror, hands on her hips. Darcy never imagined that it would be possible to make her boobs look even bigger, but here she is. 

Her handmaiden wants to apply a coat of lipstick, but Darcy rejects the offer. Instead, she reaches for her personal favorite lipstick, brought all the way from back home on Earth. It’s a vibrant red shade, and Darcy rubs her lips in satisfaction after she’s put it on - the final touch. Perfect. 

There’s a knock on the door, and through the mirror Darcy can see her mother entering the room. She must have finally made it up to Asgard for the wedding. Apparently humans were rarely allowed on Asgard, but in light of the apocalypse, a few of those rules were allowed to be bent. The fact that Darcy is about to be the first human princess of Asgard is a testament to that, if anything. 

“Darcy!” Her mother squeals with delight, and Darcy greets her with a big smile. The handmaidens leave the room to give them some privacy as the pair embrace in a warm hug.

“Can you believe this place?” Her mom exclaims with her mouth agape, looking around the beautifully furnished room.

“It’s like Versailles and the Colosseum had a baby, I know,” Darcy agrees with a laugh.

“My god, and you look stunning,” Her mom takes a step back and admires her gown, “How’s the husband-to-be?”

“Beats me,” Darcy says, “I haven’t seen him in, like, a month.”

“But he’s handsome, right?” Her mom probes with a sly look, and Darcy resists the urge to roll her eyes. Typically, this would be all her mom cared about. 

“I mean…yeah…” Darcy answers truthfully, shrugging her shoulders. 

Her mom winks, “Bet you never thought you’d get this lucky, huh?”

“Never,” Darcy answers dryly, but it’s over her mom’s head.

________________________________________

There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of guests that spill into the Great Hall after the ceremony. Darcy is seated at the head table next to Thor, each of them welcoming guests as they approach them with well-wishes as gifts before finding their own tables.

“Tired yet, Lady Darcy?” Thor leans over and asks teasingly about halfway through the reception. 

“Me? Nah,” Darcy lies through her teeth. All around them, the party continues to grow even more boisterous, as if people are actually more energetic as the night goes on. Typical vikings. She doesn’t get it - maybe she needs more alcohol. 

The ceremony itself had taken almost two whole hours. She didn’t really understand half of it - the language and the rituals were too foreign for her. A few media sources from Earth had been allowed to come and document the ceremony. It seems like her celebrity status as Earth’s first Princess of Asgard still hasn’t quite died down yet. 

She’d also met Thor’s mother and father - the All-Mother Frigga and All-Father Odin. Frigga had been exceedingly kind to her, but Odin seemed a little on the cool side, making her feel uneasy. _Well, this was your bright idea, bucko,_ she’d wanted to yell, but something told her that wouldn’t have been such a great idea. Thor had assured her his father was like that to almost everyone, but it didn’t help make her feel any better. 

People are dancing joyously all around them at the reception, the clanking of glasses and alcohol flowing freely amongst the tables. When Thor leads her by the hand to the middle of the dance floor as a part of the ritualistic first dance, the room erupts into a happy roar of encouragement. 

Darcy feels like her cheeks are on fire, and slinking away from the center of everyone’s attention is all she wants to do right about now. As she spins with Thor around other couples, she can’t help but notice Sif’s frosty gaze from where she sits near the head table. Just when Darcy is wondering just what she could have possibly done to offend the woman, the loud creek of the hall doors echo above the music, followed by a sudden wave of hushed murmurs. 

Darcy and Thor stop dancing, and Darcy cranes her neck to see what everyone is looking at. She can hear the rattle of chains before she sees them. The crowd parts before Thor and Darcy, creating a pathway for the unexpected visitor, and that’s when Darcy sucks in a shallow breath. It’s _him_. 

“Who is that?” Darcy whispers to Thor, eyeing the man as he makes his way up towards them. He is clad in dark green and black leathers, just like the night she had seen him in the hallway, but this time he is cuffed in chains, being restrained by two palace guards. 

“ _That _is my brother,” Thor begins pointedly in a very terse voice, “Loki.”__

“Loki,” Darcy repeats the name, studying it, letting it roll off her tongue, “I think…I think he’s been following me. While you were gone.” 

“That is impossible,” Thor says, not taking his eyes off Loki as he draws nearer, “He has been locked away deep within the dungeons of Asgard.” 

Loki, hearing this as he approaches the pair, corrects Thor, “Ah, that I was. But how could I miss my dear brother’s wedding?” 

Thor narrows his gaze, and his voice deepens, “And who gave you permission to leave your confinements and attend?” 

“You wound me brother,” Loki places a hand to his chest, “I only wanted to extend my well-wishes to the happy couple. I was unaware I needed permission.” 

“You’ve used your magic to manipulate your guards,” Thor says, and it’s more of a realization than a question as he studies the guards’ expressionless gazes while holding Loki’s chains. Thor sighs under his breath, “Time for new guards…” 

Meanwhile, Darcy’s head is positively swimming. Brother? Dungeons? Magic? Where is all this coming from? She shivers slightly when Loki’s gaze lands on her. His green eyes seem to sparkle in the candlelight of the room, and when he winks at her ever so subtly, Darcy feels her pulse quicken. Whoa. 

“You must return to your cell, Loki,” Thor commands, “Immediately. Guards!” 

As if out of nowhere, a new set of guards flank around them. Loki holds up a hand in protest, chuckling softly, “So unceremonious. I feel no better than a stray dog. At least allow me to give you my congratulations before I go, brother.” 

Thor narrows his eyes but allows Loki to give him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. When he steps back, his eyes fall to Darcy’s once more. 

“And this must be your wife,” He says, studying her as he cocks his head ever so slightly. Darcy swallows as she holds his stare. This is, without a doubt, the same man who confronted her in the hallway that night. His eyes seem to completely unravel her from her core, as if they have a way of seeing right through her. 

And the fact that it doesn’t concern her more than it should is downright frightening. 

Loki takes her hand in his own, and the energy in the whole room shifts. Thor tenses at her side, and the guards take a cautious step forward all at once. Loki only smirks though, pressing the back of her hand to his lips. His mouth is soft and warm as he places an opened-mouth kiss to her skin, and the underlying passion is only detectable to the two of them. 

“Charmed,” He purrs, looking back up at her before he steps away, “I hope we meet again, Miss Lewis.” 

“That’s enough,” Thor growls, “Guards, take him away!” 

There is a scuffle as the guards roughly push into Loki, but he seems passive as he allows them to grab ahold of his restraints. His eyes are on Darcy the entire time, and a hint of a wicked smile plays on his lips as he slowly backs away. 

“I must apologize for that,” Thor says, starting to explain how that should have never happened, how the guards should have been impervious to his brother's magic…but Darcy is only half-listening to whatever he’s saying.

The other half of her is still silently consumed by the mysterious god in his green and black leathers, his knowing green eyes, his sharp and handsome cheekbones, his devil-may-care gait. And a part of her - the part of her that itches with curiosity and danger - is hoping that they meet again, too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely readers! So, so, so happy with all the positive reviews this story has gotten so far. I only hope I continue to live up to your expectations! Also, I'm considering making an 8-tracks playlist for all the songs referenced in this story, plus more! It might make for a more interesting reading experience from your point of view, don't you think? It's certainly been my muse while writing.

  
_Oh they'll carve our names like scripture,_  
 _To the souls of their feet_  
 _Every footprint that they take,_  
 _It will tell of our deed._  
 _-The Beach,_ Dr. Dog

________________________________________

Darcy has about a thousand questions burning on her tongue - and all of them have to do with the enigmatic brother of her newly-wed husband. Why hadn’t she heard of him until this moment? Why was he silently stalking her in the halls, despite Thor’s claims that it would have been impossible to escape his prison cell? And maybe most importantly, why was he imprisoned in the first place?

She’s prepared to ask all those questions and more, but just when it seems like the party is ending, Fandral stands up on one of the tables to make a toast.

“To my fellow warrior, friend, and brother by bond, Thor,” He says, lifting his mead high as the rest of the banquet hall follows suit, “May you and your new wife live a happy and fruitful marriage, blessed with many children…hopefully starting soon.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and the crowd laughs as he continues, “The ceremonial bedding chamber awaits you!” 

Instantly, Darcy’s stomach feels like it’s been dropped out from underneath her. Oh, shit. That means sex. That definitely means sex.

Maybe it’s been the rapid, whirlwind change in her life, but the thought of having to have sex with Thor hadn’t even crossed her mind until this moment. The crowd cheers around her and Thor, and it doesn’t feel like she’s walking so much as being pushed forward and out of the room. 

They wind up in a lavish looking suite - reds and gold curtains draped around a large bed. It would all be incredibly romantic despite the fact that Darcy is one hundred percent not in love with the man she’s walked in here with. And she’s pretty sure Thor feels the same way. 

“So…” Darcy draws out the word with uncertainty, shifting her weight. She chews on her lip awkwardly and looks up to see Thor is also standing there, nervously rubbing his forearm. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one.

“Lady Darcy, I understand…” Thor begins, pausing as he carefully chooses his next words, “I understand if you would not be comfortable sleeping together.”

“You do?” She blurts out with a sound of relief, before awkwardly trying to backtrack, “I mean…”

Thor chuckles a little before sitting down on the bed, “You mean no offense, I know. You are a very beautiful woman, Darcy, and any man would be grateful to have you as his wife. But I’d be a fool if I ignored the fact that you did not ask for this. I think I’m being fair when I say it would be uncomfortable for the both of us to have sex tonight.”

“Thank you,” She sighs happily, coming to sit down next to him on the bed.

“I hope that in time, our feelings might change towards one another,” Thor begins, gesturing with one hand, “It would certainly make this marriage easier. But those things take time…at least, they do so for me. Meanwhile, our bed will be large enough to accommodate the two of us without the pressure of touching one another.” 

Darcy eyes the bed they sit on and agrees. Honestly, she’s just over the moon that she’s not going to be forced to have sex with her new husband. Now there’s a string of words she never thought she’d have to think. 

Darcy knows her mom would be beating her over the head with a stick if she found out she was passing up an opportunity to have sex with Mister Tall, Bronze and Back Muscles, but as hard as she tries, she can’t seem to connect with Thor on that romantic level. It really is a shame, she thinks, eyeing his toned body as he slips into the other side of the bed. But she has to stay true to her heart. 

“Hey, Thor?” Darcy asks after a while, when the two of them have settled into the bed with the lights off. Now that the elephant in the room was out of the way, she had other pressing questions on her mind. 

“Yes?” Thor murmurs, and it sounds like he’s already half-asleep.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” She asks, and her question seems to fill up the whole room with its weight. 

Darcy can sense Thor rolling over onto his back as he answers, “I didn’t think it was necessary information.”

“So, no unexpected sister of yours is going to pop out of the woodwork tomorrow?” Darcy offers up as a feeble joke, but it falls flat. Thor lays next to her in silence. Obviously this whole brother stuff is touchy business. 

“It just caught me by surprise is all,” She explains, “That’s usually something people mention when you first meet them. Or, you know, marry them. Just basic info. Like, hey, my favorite color is blue, I’m allergic to shellfish, I have a brother…and he’s a criminal…”

More silence.

“Can you at least tell me what he did that was so awful?” Darcy probes in desperation one last time. 

A beat of silence passes, and Darcy is almost certain Thor isn’t going to answer her, but that’s when he sits up in the bed and looks over at her. She can’t see so well in the darkened room, but she recognizes the way his body has tensed up. Uh oh. 

“It’s true that my younger brother is a convicted criminal, imprisoned in our dungeons,” Thor begins, his voice low and stern. “And it’s true that we do not speak of him. It was not always this way. I loved my brother. In fact, I…” Thor lets the end of his sentence trail off before abruptly changing course, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he is looked upon with shame in this kingdom, for awful reasons that I do not wish trouble you with.” 

Thor sighs heavily, laying back down in the bed and turning over onto his side, facing away from Darcy. She lies there, still soaking in his every word like a sponge. Well, this just got a whole lot more mysterious.

Darcy assumes that Thor is done talking, but just as she rolls over onto her side to try and get some sleep, his voice fills the room one last time, his words laden with warning. 

“My point, Lady Darcy, is this. You would do well to forget about Loki.”

________________________________________

Darcy spends the next couple of weeks decorating her and Thor’s new quarters. And after living out of her suitcases for the last month, she decides its finally time to unpack.

They live in a gorgeous, villa suite, near the top of the palace. Her own private closet alone is bigger than her entire apartment was back on Earth. It’s filled to the brim with expensive shoes, clothing, and jewelry, but Darcy still finds herself drawn to her own wardrobe from Earth. The familiarity is comforting. 

She has her own study room, which she fills with her guitar, camera, books, music, and photographs she had taken with her from Earth. She’s not sure why exactly she brought those with her - she doesn’t keep in contact with half the people in them. But the shots she’d taken of nature - the swell of the beach, the gorgeous woods behind her house, the sunset on a summer day - make her nostalgic for Earth. Thor had promised they would go and visit sometimes - after all, their marriage was meant to bind the two worlds. 

One of Darcy’s personal favorite places to visit in the palace - besides the library and the kitchen - is her own private swimming pool. It’s a secluded, lush place, and it reminds her of some kind of ancient Roman bath house. 

The first time she decides to try it out, she’s completely alone. Thor had been making efforts to constantly accompany her wherever she went, or to bring her along to whatever he was busy with during the day. _It’s important for a future queen to be well-versed in the topics of the kingdom_ , Thor had said. Well, it’s not like she had _asked_ to be the future queen. 

She pops in her earbuds, ridding herself of the stress of the last few weeks, and gently takes a couple steps into the pool - careful not to get her iPod wet. The water is incredibly warm and inviting, even scented with oils that help her to unwind. She scrolls until she finds the right song, and then leans back into the wall of the pool, sighing contentedly. 

It’s not long before her mind wanders to her favorite topic of thought: Loki. Despite Thor’s warning, she had been unable to get him out of her mind. She wasn’t sure what it was about him, but she wanted to know more. And she knew Thor was unwilling to give her those answers.

Darcy is shook out of her reverie by a tapping on her shoulder. She squeals and jumps, dropping her iPod into the water. Pulling out her earbuds, she gingerly scoops up her iPod and lays it on the tiles. It’s totally fried. 

“My apologies,” Thor says, standing above her, “I did not mean to startle you.” 

“It’s fine,” Darcy says, with visible annoyance in her voice. Damn. Where else was she going to get a new iPod on Asgard? 

“I came with urgent news,” Thor says, and that’s when Darcy notices just how rushed he appears - out of breath, and sweating slightly, as if he ran all the way here. “A riot has broken out on Jotunheim. I do not know how long I shall be gone, or when I will return, but I am leaving immediately with Sif and the Warrior's Three. I trust you will be fine on your own?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Darcy says, climbing out of the water and wrapping herself in a towel, “Go do what you have to do.”

“Thank you, Darcy,” Thor says, and in a move that surprises her, he kisses her cheek. She stands there awkwardly as he hurries out of the room without another word. 

Cradling her broken iPod in her hands, Darcy sighs slightly. It would take a miracle to fix it now. Or maybe…magic. What a convenient excuse to pay a visit to the dungeons. Darcy can’t help the smirk that crawls across her face as the idea strikes her. 

After all, with Thor gone, who’s going to stop her now?


	8. Chapter 8

Darcy had waited until long after midnight to make the journey down to the dungeons. She had slipped out of bed, wearing a black hoodie, leggings, and black boots, feeling very covert-ops. Thor was long gone by that point, but she just wanted to be on the safe side. She really had no excuses to be down there, and if she were caught, she knew for sure she’d be escorted back to the safer areas of the palace. 

Darcy’s footsteps echo and bounce off of the dungeon walls as she searches for Loki, casting an eerie feeling all around her. She’s never been down to this part of the castle before. Hell, she hadn’t even known it existed until she met Loki. The lighting is dim, and torches burn along the walls every few feet or so. She walks past empty cell after empty cell to no avail. 

Now she’s not so sure if this was a good idea after all. Sure, her insatiable curiosity about Thor’s brother had motivated her to do this (well, that and her broken iPod), but after looking at countless empty cells she begins to feel dejected. She’s been scouring the dungeons for what felt like days with no luck. She’s tired, thirsty, and the right side of her head is beginning to throb and turn into what will surely be a headache. Just as she’s about to say screw it and give up on this entire endeavor, she hears voices coming from down the hall. 

Quickly, she throws herself behind a column, pressing herself as tightly as she can to the shape and hoping her black clothes do their job to camouflage her. Two palace guards stroll past, chatting amongst themselves. 

“Should we go down and check on him?” One of the guards asks, gesturing to a stairwell just down the hall. 

“Gods no, I’m exhausted,” The other replies with a yawn, “Let’s just keep doing the rounds. I don’t feel like dealing with the almighty God of Mischief tonight.” 

They both snicker like they’re in on some kind of joke, their voices floating farther away from Darcy as they round a corner and disappear. Swiftly, Darcy darts down the hall to the stairwell they were talking about. 

She tiptoes down the stairs, trying her best to remain silent. When she emerges at the base, she looks to see the room open up ahead of her. There, at the far end of hall, is an enormous glass structure, completely illuminating the already dimly lit dungeons. Darcy steadies her breathing as she cautiously makes her way towards it. This has got to be it.

She approaches the cell, placing her hand against the glass, and watches as it shimmers with some kind of golden dust. It’s unlike anything she’s ever seen before. Inside the room, all she can see is one long couch, facing what appears to be a fireplace. She notices hallways in the back of the cell that lead elsewhere. But no Loki. 

She’s about to turn and leave when she hears his voice: “Darcy Lewis.” 

Darcy’s head snaps back up and looks into the cell. Rising from the couch is none other than the God of Mischief himself. He has a smirk on his face as he saunters over to the glass wall that separates them. 

“Well, it certainly took you longer than I expected,” He says, his tone mildly condescending.

“Wait…you’ve been expecting me?” Darcy asks, watching as he leans against a wall near the glass window. 

“Naturally,” He responds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, folding his arms across his chest and staring straight at her. Those green eyes of his are doing wicked things again, and she swallows nervously. 

“Why are you so interested in me?” Darcy asks, a hint of a challenge in her voice.

“Oh, Miss Lewis, how could I not be?” He asks, his voice low, his eyes raking over her form. It makes her shiver in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. “Asgard’s newest arrival: a young, beautiful woman of Midgard…and she is betrothed to my brother? I couldn’t resist my curiosity.” 

“I know you’ve been following me,” Darcy accuses him, her heart fluttering at the word beautiful and trying to work up her nerves under his smoldering gaze, “But you’re supposed to be locked up. For your crimes. How have you been getting out?”

Loki studies her, his eyes searching hers. He tilts his head ever so slightly before avoiding her question with another, “So, my brother did not tell you why I am here. Interesting.”

“Hey, you didn’t answer my question,” Darcy points out, a hand on her hip, “But since you brought it up, you can answer that one, too…why _are_ you down here?” 

Loki chuckles darkly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his forearm, “Tell me, Miss Lewis, what _do_ you know about me?” 

“I know you’re a criminal,” She says pointedly, “I know you’re a prisoner. Thor’s brother. He says you’re capable of magic. I don’t believe him.” 

Loki raises one eyebrow, “Is that so?” 

Darcy palms her broken iPod in her hand, “Prove it to me. Fix my iPod.” 

Loki laughs, and the sound is darkly melodic, echoing around them, “Darcy Lewis of Midgard…so many questions, and so _demanding_. Quite the little minx, you are. You think you’re so clever with your little game, tricking me into fixing your treasured possession.” He pauses, coming closer to the wall, causing Darcy to take a small, cautious step back. “Darling, you may be playing the game…but I invented it.” 

“You don’t scare me,” Darcy says, and it’s the truth. If she’s being fully honest with herself, he’s only managed to enrapture her even more. 

“It was never my intention.” Loki says quietly, narrowing his eyes. “But now that we’re being honest with one another, I’ll make a deal with you.”

“ _Honest?_ ” Darcy asks incredulously, “You haven’t answered a single one of my questions!”

“You want to know more about me,” Loki says, a gleam in his eye, “And I want to know more about you. A question for a question seems fair. Choose wisely.” 

Darcy bites down on her lower lip. Something about him is driving her crazy, yet she refuses to back down from his game, “Fine. Why are you down here?” 

The smirk grows wide across Loki’s face, “Because this is where Asgard keeps all of its prisoners.” 

“No! That’s not what I…” Darcy finishes her sentence with a disgruntled sigh. What a waste of a question. She makes a mental note to be more clear about her next one. He was definitely right about the whole tricky thing. 

“My turn,” Loki practically purrs like a cat who has just trapped a mouse. “Tell me, Miss Lewis, what it’s like to be married to the crown prince of Asgard? Does he treat you like the divine creature that you are?” 

Darcy can feel the heat creep into her cheeks at his words. Talk about an intimate question. Loki stares at her, and its almost as though she can see a lightbulb go off in his head just by looking at her expression. 

“He hasn’t bed you yet, has he?” Loki asks quietly, slowly, watching her reaction. She’s floored, her head spinning and unable to answer him…but that only gives him even more assurance that he’s correct. 

“What a shame,” Loki practically breathes, never taking his gaze off of her. Suddenly the room feels incredibly small and hot, and Darcy finds herself doubting that there’s even any barrier between them, because he is so impossibly close now. So close, and so intoxicating. Darcy feels her heart pounding in the hollow of her throat. 

“Were you my wife,” Loki continues, his breath leaving hot little tufts on the wall, “I would worship you every night with my tongue. Slowly. Intimately…”

Darcy can’t help the small pant that escapes her mouth as she stares at him. Holy hell. She’s completely transfixed by his gaze as he continues, “I would have you until your knees were week and my name the only word on your lips. I bet you taste divine…so hot and sweet.” 

Darcy presses her legs together a little tighter. She’s never been turned on by someone’s words before, but Loki was hitting every button. For a minute, she forgets who she’s even talking to. It’s all she can imagine now - that mouth of his, whispering dirty secrets into her ear as he slowly makes love to her. She’s worried she might actually moan just thinking about it, but that’s when the sound of footsteps from the stairs above pulls them back to reality. The guards. 

Darcy blinks as she takes a step back away from the cell. Loki is smirking at her as he folds his arms behind his back, “It’s late, Miss Lewis. And this is no place for a princess. Goodnight.”

Darcy opens her mouth to say something - anything - but Loki is already walking away back into his cell, and the sound of approaching footsteps is growing louder. She turns on one heel and darts up the staircase on the other side of the room, taking the steps two at a time. She doesn’t really slow down until she’s back in her room, panting heavily, her mind replaying the events of the evening.

She’s still aroused, remembering the way he had looked at her, the erotic language and the implications he had imposed, the way his breathy tone sent goosebumps down her neck. She thinks about how the rational thing to have done might have been to tune him out, ignore it. But with him, it seemed almost impossible to ignore. And even if it wasn’t, there was no way she’d want to. Those green eyes, that fine black hair, that voice like velvet. That’s when Darcy knows she’s in deep. And she knows, without a doubt, that she’ll find herself back in front of that glass window again, very, _very_ soon. 

She crawls into bed, still fully clothed, and lets out a heavy sigh. She feels her iPod pressing up against her through the pocket of her sweater, and when she slides it out, she’s stunned to see the screen glowing, fully repaired and charged. A small smile spreads across her face.

That sneaky son of a bitch.


	9. Chapter 9

Loki is leaning against a wall by the glass barrier when she returns the next night. He’s sucking on the core of a freshly eaten apple as she walks up to his cell. Once again, she’s dressed in her all-black outfit...and she assumes he hasn’t noticed her, but then he speaks without looking up. 

“Back so soon?” He asks, dropping the finished apple core to the ground where it disappears in a puff of magic. Darcy stares with amazement at the spot. 

“Yeah, I…” Darcy pauses, shrugging her shoulders as she looks up at him, “I wanted to say thanks. For fixing my iPod.”

Loki nods, slowly sucking the apple juice off the curve of his thumb between the forefinger. His lips purse as they leave the skin, and Darcy is once again transfixed by his actions. How has he managed to make every damn thing he does so irresistibly sexual? 

“I sensed its value you to you. Consider it a favor.” He says, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. He saunters over to the glass between them, standing a little bit closer, “Perhaps one day you can return it.” 

Darcy’s stomach does a flip at his words, but she offers up a small, sly smile, “Depends.” 

Loki laughs softly, “My, my. Has anyone ever told you how brazen you are, Miss Lewis?”

“Brazen's a new one. Obnoxious might be the term most used,” Darcy admits with a half-eye roll. 

“Hardly,” Loki comments, his voice low, “You have wit. You’re cunning. I’m certain you could charm yourself out of any unwanted situation.” 

Darcy blushes, biting on her lower lip, “Yeah, every situation but the one involving me being forced to marry a complete stranger.” 

“They say everything happens for a reason,” Loki says, now pacing a couple of steps in front of her, like a tiger behind its cage, “And while I don’t normally believe the ever-anonymous ' _them_ ', you can’t deny that were it not for your arranged marriage, you would not be standing here, now, talking to me.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow, “Touché. But what makes you so sure I even enjoy talking to you anyway?”

Loki laughs, and the sound is more like a bark than anything, “Don’t fool yourself, Miss Lewis. I believe _you_ were the one who has sought _me_ out. Twice.” He gestures with one hand, “After all, I am confined to this prison.” 

“Nice try, Houdini, but I know you’ve been getting out of here somehow to spy on me,” Darcy levels with him, “So here’s my big question for the day: how have you been doing it?” 

Darcy can hear his low exhale of breath, and his green eyes seem to bore straight into hers as he lets an all-knowing grin crawl across his face. That’s when she feels the atmosphere shift, and there’s a cool tickle of breath across the back of her ear that makes the hairs on her neck stand up. 

“Magic,” Loki replies with a whisper, only the sound is impossibly close to her ear, and Loki is still standing in front of her, behind the glass wall…with his mouth shut. Darcy whirls around and sees his duplicate standing there behind her. He laughs breathily before dissolving into a blue swirl of smoke. 

Darcy blinks with disbelief, doing a double-take, “What - what the hell was that? You can make copies of yourself?” 

“Among other things,” Loki, the real Loki behind the glass, tilts his head with a suggestive smile.

“Then…why don’t you use it to escape?” Darcy asks, now legitimately curious about the whole process, “I mean, can’t you make it unlock your cell and free you?” 

“You think one step ahead, Miss Lewis. I like that,” Loki responds with admiration in his voice. “My physical body is unable to leave this confinement. However, it’s true my father was foolish enough to design this cell with the flaws that enable me to project myself outside of it. Unfortunately, he was not foolish enough to hide the key that unlocks it in an area which my magic nor my projections can reach.” 

Darcy nods her head before another question sparks in her mind, “You know, you still haven't told me what you’re in here for.”

“Come now, I don’t mean to scare you off so soon,” Loki almost growls. And while there’s a hint of teasing in his voice, Darcy can also detect another, more serious emotion. 

“I’m a big girl,” Darcy replies defensively, averting her gaze and crossing her arms, “I can handle it.” 

“Oh, I think we should work our way up to what you’ll be able to handle,” Loki replies, his voice just barely dripping with subtle innuendo. Darcy can feel a shiver race down her spine as they lock eyes. At the sound of the familiar guard footsteps overhead, Darcy begins to waver.

“I should go,” She says with uncertainty. 

“I suppose you could go back to that vast, lonely bed and wallow in isolation, if you really wanted to…” Loki muses, raising one eyebrow.

Darcy narrows her eyes, sensing that he’s toying with her, “Or? It sounds like there needs to be an ‘or’ after that sentence.” 

Loki laughs quietly, “ _Or_ …you can join _me_ for the night, instead.”

Darcy stares at him skeptically, but the weight of his offer is highly tempting to her. She’s drawn to him, now more than ever, and she’s not about to back away now. “Join you? How? You’re locked away in a glass case that doesn’t have any doors.” 

“Have you forgotten that little five letter word so soon?” Loki asks with a small smile that ghosts across his lips, “The boundaries of this cell are preventing me from escaping, yes. But the magic that flows within the glass allows any other person to penetrate the walls, should they so desire.” 

The footsteps are growing louder above them, and the seconds are ticking before the guards show up and haul Darcy away. She fidgets with a loose string on the cuff of her hoodie, eyeing Loki as she registers this information. 

“So what you’re saying is, if I walk into that glass wall, I won’t just bounce off it like an idiot?” Darcy asks.

“You have to want to,” Loki explains, and his voice seems to crawl across her skin, dark and seductive. “The magic won’t allow anyone passage who doesn’t truly desire it.” 

Darcy shifts her weight from her left to her right, weighing the pros and cons. He's a criminal, convicted of god knows what crimes, and he's inviting her (quite literally) straight into the wolf's den. But her heart still skips a beat as her eyes meet his before wildly pounding away again in her throat.

"Well, Miss Lewis?" He asks, his words filling the silence, "Do you want to?”

Be it the sound the rapidly approaching footsteps, her irrational desire to get closer to Loki, or a combination of the two, Darcy takes one deep breath and steadies herself, eyeing the wall with a purpose. Somewhere deep down, she knows she's making a decision that will change things forever now. Closing her eyes, she takes one step forward - and instead of her foot colliding with the glass wall, it lands seamlessly on the other side. 

She cautiously opens one eye and then the other as she takes one more final step - and she is inside of Loki’s cell. He stands next to her, grinning wickedly as she looks up at him with a triumphant smile. 

“Welcome, princess,” He greets her with a small head nod. Darcy’s head and heart feel like they’re doing somersaults. 

On the other side of the wall, two guards stroll by without so much as a passing glance into the cell - even though it’s painfully obvious that Darcy is standing right there. She freezes where she is, wondering why they aren’t freaking out. 

“What’s wrong with them?” Darcy asks, her voice a whisper just in case, “Can’t they see I’m in here?” 

“They see what I want them to see,” Loki explains with an aura of dominance. He waves a hand in front of them, sending out a swirling visage that blocks the glass panes, showing her that the guards outside aren’t at all seeing the reality inside the cell. 

Darcy sucks in a breath of awe, looking from the illusion in front of her back up to Loki. He winks at her in a way that comes off entirely too sexy, something she’s never seen a guy achieve before. When he lowers his hand again, it brushes against hers, and the sensation of his skin on hers causes her to jolt slightly. Briefly she wonders if it’s only the residue of the spell on his fingers, but the look in his eyes tells her that it’s something else entirely. 

“Sweet, naive, Darcy Lewis…I do look forward to accustoming you to magic.”


	10. Chapter 10

As it turns out, there was a lot more to Loki’s prison cell than met the eye. Darcy is surprised to see that the lounge chaise and fireplace are the only outward appearances in the cell. Loki gives her the grand tour of what’s tucked away down the hall - including a fully stocked kitchen, a spa-like bathroom, and of course, his bedroom.

Darcy lets out a low, impressed whistle, “Well damn. I wouldn’t mind being a prisoner if this is what the cell looked like.” 

Loki pops an eyebrow as he looks at her, “I have my mother to thank for that. Were it up to my father, I’d be rotting away in a cavern. Or worse.” 

Darcy wants to press the issue further, but she decides to save the heavier stuff for another time. That is, if he’d even be willing to share it. There’s so much of the man before her that’s shrouded in mystery, but for right now - tonight - she doesn’t really care. 

What she does focus on is the undeniable attraction she feels for him every time her eyes come to rest anywhere on his tall, lanky form. And the fact that he’s invited her here, now, to spend the night with him in his cell. She’s an adult; she knows the implications that had come with the invitation. And yet she still feels like a teenager, sneaking around at night to be with a forbidden boyfriend. 

Only this time she’s not hiding it from her parents. She’s hiding it from her husband. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Loki asks, walking into the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of wine off the shelf and pops the cork before reaching for two wine glasses. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Darcy teases, trying to come across as flirty, but also because a ball of nerves as started to form in her stomach. Damn, she hasn’t felt this nervous around a boy since - well, since ever. 

Loki eyes her from under his brows as he pours the wine, “Just trying to be an accommodating host.” 

Darcy takes the wine glass from him with a shy smile, unable to argue, as he clinks his glass against hers in a toast, “To Princess Darcy Lewis of Asgard.” 

While Darcy doesn’t get drunk that night, she does get pretty tipsy. It’s enough so that she forgets her nerves and inhibitions. Part of her had expected them to jump straight into full-on making out as soon as she had stepped foot inside his cell - by the way he had showered her with innuendoes earlier, it wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. But that is hardly the case at all. 

Loki is insistent on conversation. In fact, they never even make it out of the kitchen. And she loves every minute of it. As the time passes, Darcy sits on the countertop, legs dangling off the sides as Loki sits on a barstool below her. Both of their wine glasses are emptied and filled throughout the course of the night. 

Darcy wonders if the fact that Loki’s a god plays any part in how the alcohol affects him - because so far, he’s shown no signs of inebriation. She had tried to ask him questions, but he always found a way to spin the conversation right back to her, leaving him just as mysterious as before. If that’s the way he wants it, that’s the way he can have it - for now. Besides, Darcy can’t deny she enjoys the attention from him - when was the last time a man asked to hear all about _her_? She’s never been so open so easily about herself with any man before in her life. It creates a warm feeling in her stomach - one that she can distinguish from the alcohol, at least.

She feels like she’s almost too domineering in the conversation, but one look at Loki proves he is fully intent and invested in every word coming out of her mouth. He’s isn’t just hearing her talk - he’s _listening_. It’s almost ridiculous - Loki only has to ask one simple question before Darcy is willingly offering up so much about herself - her life, her habits, her likes and dislikes, her passions and dreams. His smoldering green eyes seem to bore into her as she continues on about herself.

“…and that was the story of how I got my first kiss.” Darcy says as she finishes yet another story. She’s not sure what time it is, but she knows it’s late - maybe even so late that it’s bordering on early morning. “It was horrible and our teeth were clanking together. Plus, he had braces. But it was high school, so maybe I can excuse that.”

Loki looks at her quizzically, “So, let me make sure I understand: this boy thought he could repay your guitar lessons with a kiss?”

Darcy nods her head, “Right? I mean, I had a crush on the dude, but in hindsight, I definitely should have asked for cash. My guitar skills should be selling for much more.” 

Loki laughs politely before switching his tone to something a little more serious, “I’d like to hear you play sometime. I’m certain you sound breathtaking.” 

Darcy flushes what she’s sure is a deep red color in her cheeks, “Well, obviously Tyler Rogers from the tenth grade didn’t think so.” 

“Tell me, Miss Lewis, did you have many suiters before my brother?” Loki asks, looking at her in a way that makes her wants to dissolve into the countertop.

“Not…not really,” She says, shrugging her shoulders. She looks down into her wine glass to see that it’s empty - as is the bottle of wine that was supplying it. Her tipsy-ness has worn off, and she sort of wishes it hadn’t. “Well, there was this one guy, Shawn. He’s the only really serious boyfriend I’ve ever had. God, he was awful though.”

“How so?” Loki prods. 

“Well, he cheated on me for one thing,” Darcy explains with a disgusted eye roll, “But more than that, I just felt like we never really connected on a deeper level. Everything felt so shallow. I felt like we never really understood each other at all. Actually…I’ve never really felt like I could connect with _any_ guy in my life.” 

_Until now_ , a tiny voice in her head squeaks. She looks down at Loki with a small shrug, and he is staring up at her with understanding and a hint of curiosity. 

“I believe that fundamental connection is crucial, don’t you?” He asks, his tone deeper than it has been all night. It causes Darcy to break out in goosebumps down her arms as she nods her head. 

“If you lack anything mentally, then surely it shows in your physical connection,” Loki continues, slowly getting up from his barstool and closing the distance so that he’s standing in front of where she sits on the counter, “I take it this Shawn of yours was no exceptional lover?” 

“No,” Darcy replies, and the word comes out like a whisper, because she is now oh-so aware of his sudden proximity to her legs. She looks down and takes note that his hand is resting on the countertop, just near her upper thigh. Jesus those fingers are long. Has she noticed yet just how long those fingers are? Her mind tries not to think of all the things he could possibly do with them. She swallows, looking up at him, “Even his kisses were lacking.” 

“And how long has it been since you’ve been properly kissed?” Loki asks, and Darcy can feel his hand trailing up her thigh now, his touch burning her skin through her clothes. Darcy’s not sure if her legs open of their own volition or if Loki has pushed between them (probably both), but he’s now standing between her legs, his body pressed against hers. 

“Probably never,” Darcy answers with a breathy half-laugh, trying to avert his gaze, but it’s damn near impossible. He looks down at her, trailing his free hand lightly down her cheek, stopping to gently cup her chin and tilt her face up. Those hypnotizing green eyes of his cause her to melt like putty in his hands, and it takes all her willpower to stay upright on the counter. 

“Such a waste,” Loki says softly, nuzzling his nose against hers. “You have such full, plump lips. I imagine they’re silken to the touch, mm?” He brings his thumb up to brush against her bottom lip, stroking it until he’s parted her mouth. 

Darcy closes her eyes and sucks in a ragged breath against his fingertip. Her hands grip the counter so hard she knows her knuckles are probably turning white. Loki seems to notice her tense posture, and he leans forward and breathes gently against her ear, “Relax.”

At the rate her heart is pumping, Darcy wonders if it’s even possible to entertain the idea of relaxing. But then Loki’s teeth are grazing her earlobe, gently flicking and sucking at her tender skin. She lets out a shaky breath. 

“You deserve to be kissed here,” He says in a low, gravelly voice, nipping at her earlobe once more. He drags the tip of his nose across her cheekbone, and then presses his lips against each of her eyelids in a tender kiss, “And here…” 

Darcy’s whole body is heating up faster and faster at the torturous pace he’s setting with his mouth against her skin. With other guys she’s made out with, they usually rush straight for her mouth, attacking her with their lips in a way that is entirely uncoordinated and unsexy. But this? This some other kind of witchcraft. 

Loki tilts his head against hers, so that their lips are just brushing. Darcy’s mouth is still parted, and her breathing is uneven, the anticipation almost killing her. When he speaks again, his lips are moving against hers, “…And _here_.” 

She opens her mouth against his, unable to contain herself, ending the sweet agony. Darcy feels herself bending forward to meet him, like her whole body is under his spell. His mouth tastes sweet and hot all at once - like cinnamon or fire. Better than anything she’s tasted in her whole life.

Loki takes his time with her, letting his lips explore hers with a certain softness, gently sucking on her bottom lip. Darcy shudders at the sensation. Already this is a thousand times better than any kiss she’s ever had before. Loki knows exactly how to use his mouth, and his hands - reaching to the back of her neck to tilt her head just right, deepening the kiss. 

When his tongue slides into her mouth, flicking at her own tongue, Darcy lets out a small moan. The audible response seems to encourage Loki, and she can feel him grinning against her mouth as he pushes against her. The kiss is all-encompassing, wet and deep, and Darcy can’t help herself as she loops her arms around his broad shoulders. It feels like heaven. 

Loki pulls back, stopping to suck once on her upper lip and then her lower lip. Darcy’s breathing is ragged, and she pushes her forehead against his to signal she’s not done yet. Nowhere near done. 

She can sense his smile on her skin, almost as if he’s reading her thoughts, and he kisses the corner of her mouth, “It’s a sin those lips of yours have never been kissed properly.” 

“I think you’ve just fixed that...” Darcy says with a mix of obviousness and impatience, trying desperately to find his lips again. She wiggles against him, pressing herself closer to his core.

“Aren’t you an impatient little minx?” Loki growls against her mouth. He pulls his head up, letting his lips linger on hers with one, last, passionate pull before standing up straight and looking down at her, “But I think it’s time for you to leave now.”

Darcy whines softly, her eyes snapping open, “Why?”

Loki laughs quietly at her impatient tone, “It’s nearly morning. And what would the kingdom of Asgard think if they saw their newlywed princess exiting the cell of her husband’s brother, hm?” 

_Shit_ , Darcy thinks. She hadn’t realized just how much time has passed - and Loki does have a point. She looks up at him with surrender with her hands still around his shoulders, biting on her lower lip, “We’ll have to keep this a secret, won’t we?” 

Loki’s hands trail down her sides, tracing her curves until they come to rest at her hips. As if she weighed nothing at all, he lifts her up off the counter and sets her down to stand in front of him. He never breaks eye contact with her, and Darcy can’t help but think how it’s the goddamned hottest thing in the entire world. 

“We will.” He says in a serious tone. When he leans down to mold his mouth to hers in a goodbye kiss, Darcy relishes in the smooth and passionate pull of his lips. God, he tastes like heaven, and she’s not sure if she’ll ever be able to get enough. 

When Loki pulls back from the kiss, he gives her a mischievous look, his eyes darkening, “But trust me when I say this will be the best secret you’ve ever had the pleasure of keeping.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's safe to say we're finally getting into the nsfw chapters! Which I'm sure you're all very excited for ;) Also there's more drug references in this chapter - but it's just the marijuana, and it's in the tags, so it shouldn't come as a shocker! Thanks again for reading, commenting, and kudo-ing, you guys are the best!

They spend the next week and a half doing just that: keeping secrets. Thor is still in Jotunheim, working through whatever political business he needs to. Maybe this makes Darcy a bad person, or a bad wife, but she really doesn’t care.

She doesn’t love Thor. She never asked to be his wife. And if she wants to carry out an illicit affair with her husband’s brother then, dammit, she’s going to do just that.

Loki is dark and mysterious and enigmatic. The way he looks at her when she speaks, the way his green eyes seem to instinctively understand every fiber of her being…it makes Darcy’s heart melt like chocolate on a summer day. 

When she visits him, they spend most of their nights talking, followed by an inevitable make out session. It follows the same pattern, leaving Darcy equal parts mentally satisfied and sexually frustrated. It’s not that she doesn’t love talking to him, it’s just that at some point she wishes he would talk more about himself. 

That, plus she also really, _really_ is dying to get into those pants of his. 

His kisses leave her wanton and panting, her body aching for extra-attention. But every time they start to get into it, the sun rays are breaking on the horizon, and she has to leave him again. Keeping secrets has started to turn into frustrating business. 

But Darcy has a plan that she hopes will satisfy all of her needs at once.

“You’re later than usual,” Loki points out as she enters his cell. She’s not dressed in her usual black garb tonight - no, tonight she’s opted for pajamas. In this case, it’s a pair of booty shorts and a loose, oversized t-shirt. Definitely not the sexiest set of lingerie, but she doesn’t want to be overly obvious. Besides, she smiles secretly at the fact that Loki’s definitely seemed to take notice.

“Sorry about that,” Darcy says, walking into his cell and making herself at home. She sits down criss-cross on his bed. Loki follows her, standing in the doorframe and staring at her curiously. She looks over to him with an eyebrow wiggle, “I was looking for something I brought with me from Earth. Took me longer than I thought to find it.”

“I take it you weren’t looking for pants,” He jokes, nodding at her exposed skin. 

“No,” Darcy replies with a smile, “But I hope you don’t mind my wardrobe change? I figure if I’m going to be spending the night here I might as well be comfortable.”

“I don’t disagree,” Loki replies, coming into the room and sitting next to her on the bed, “So what is it you were looking for?”

“This,” Darcy replies with a sly smile, holding up a small bag of green leaves. “On earth we call it marijuana.” 

Loki gives her a quizzical look, “A plant? And what does it do?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Darcy responds slyly, loving the amused look on his face. She pulls out a wrapper, pinching the drug inside before rolling it together. 

“Would you mind lighting it?” She asks, holding the joint between two fingers in front of Loki’s face. He seems to understand by this point, cautiously crafting a flame from the magic at the tips of his forefinger and thumb pinched together. 

Darcy sucks in as the flame catches on the end of the joint. Loki stares at her, transfixed, as she makes an extra point to purse her lips around the end of the joint. Oh yes, she’s got him right where she wants him. Pulling the joint away from her mouth, she blows a tiny cloud of smoke out and away. 

“Try it,” Darcy says, offering him the joint. He looks mildly skeptical (which she can’t help but find insanely adorable), but takes it out of her fingers anyway. He sucks in a long drag, and then promptly coughs out wildly. Darcy tries to bite back a little grin. 

“Is it supposed to burn like that?” Loki asks through a fit of coughing, his eyes beginning to water. 

“You’ll be fine. More than fine…just give it awhile.” Darcy assures him as he calms down, “Don’t breathe in so much next time.”

Loki narrows his eyes at her and shoots her a look, causing her to laugh, but he takes her at her word. They pass the joint between them, and after they both have taken two hits, Darcy can see the glazed over look starting to settle in Loki’s eyes. She herself is beginning to feel lightheaded and optimistic. She’d hoped if they were both stoned, he might be more open to talking about himself. And she was about to find out. 

“Must get pretty boring down here by yourself all the time,” Darcy comments, looking over at him after she takes another hit. 

“Mmm, not so much when I’m in the company of such a beautiful woman,” Loki responds, and Darcy can’t help but feel her stomach flip. 

“How long have you been in here for?” Darcy asks.

“Long enough,” Loki is quick to respond, his brow furrowed slightly. 

“And...are you ever planning on getting out?” Darcy pushes, just wanting to know what it is that put him down here in the first place. 

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” Loki comments, taking the joint from her and taking another hit. He’s already expertly learned how to hold the joint just right, and Darcy is wildly attracted to his strong jawline as he sucks in a breath. He blows out the smoke and looks over to her, “But the key to this cell is tucked away in one of the most sacred places in all of Asgard. No magic can penetrate it. And even if I could project myself there…if I were to be caught breaking in…the punishment would be certain death." He pauses, his voice taking on a slightly more somber tone. "Although sometimes I wish I were dead instead of this lifeless, locked-away existence.” 

Darcy swallows, looking at him with sad eyes. He suddenly looks so vulnerable and exposed, telling her about himself. A part of her wants to leave the subject alone, but she’s never gotten this far with him before. So she pushes a little further.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you did?” She whispers, her voice shaking just slightly. 

Loki looks at her with those mournful green eyes of his, and for a second, she really thinks he’s going to tell her. That they’re breaking through another layer in their relationship. There is consideration on his face - she can see him weighing the options in his mind, the wheels spinning. 

“If you keep bringing this plant, I just might,” Loki finally says lightheartedly with a small wink, offering her the joint. Darcy lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. This is his way of ending the conversation. Damn. 

Darcy leans against his bed and takes another long hit. By now the room is filled in a foggy haze that also matches her thoughts. She could have sworn both she and Loki had started out on opposite sides of the bed, but now, as the joint burned to its end, they sit with their thighs almost touching. 

Well, if their conversation about him was closed, she still had one more thing she needed to accomplish. She pinches the very end of the joint, all of its contents burned up. It’s safe to say that the both of them are thoroughly stoned at this point. 

Darcy looks over at Loki, at his lean and wiry arm muscles, his long, slender fingers. She looks at his jawline again, wondering what it might be like to lick it up and down. The thought alone makes her ache a little at her core. Getting stoned also had a way of kicking her hormones into overdrive. 

“What are you thinking about, Miss Lewis?” Loki drawls, looking over at her. 

“How much I want you to touch me,” She drawls back a little breathlessly, and holy shit, had she actually just said that aloud? Now she knows she’s properly stoned. Even though it was the truth…her inhibitions were damned. 

Loki stares at her quizzically, lifting an eyebrow in a way that makes her want to squirm. His voice is dark and low as he commands, “Show me.”

Darcy can feel the half-smirk on her lips at the sound of the desire in his voice: he wants it just as bad as she does. This fact alone heats her up considerably. In a daring move, she crawls over onto his lap, straddling his hips. She can hear his sharp intake of breath at her forwardness, and she feels in control and unbelievably sexy. Darcy rides her confidence with a coy look aimed straight at him.

Slowly she lifts up her shirt over her head shirt, watching as his eyes follow her movements. She’s not wearing a bra, so when she’s finished, her breasts lie exposed in front of him. She can tell his breathing has become more shallow, and the look of desire in his eyes is hardly subtle. She reaches for his hand, placing hers on top, and guides it towards her body.

“I want you to touch me here,” She whispers, and knows her voice sounds extra-sultry because of just how high she is. She places his hand on top of her right breast and arches her back a little, encouraging him to do what he likes. And he does. 

Loki cups her breast, gently pushing and squeezing. When he looks up at her, his eyes are heavy with lust. He tweaks and rolls her nipple between his fingers, and it causes her hips to buck against him. That’s when she can feel his growing stiffness underneath her. Fuck. 

“Where else do you want me to touch you?” Loki asks, almost choking out the words in his lust-fueled haze. 

“Touch me here,” Darcy mewls, taking his hand again and guiding it from her breast down her stomach. His fingers leave a cool mark down her hot skin. They both groan as his hand comes to rest on the outside of her panties. 

“Oh,” Loki moans, taking one long, gentle rub against the fabric, feeling the soaked-through material. “Do my fingers make you wet, princess?”

“So wet,” Darcy whispers, rocking against his hand ever so slightly. She pushes her knees a little higher off the ground so he has better leverage. Fuck, his fingers feel even better than she imagined they would. This is something a girl could get used to. 

Loki continues to palm her through the fabric, letting Darcy get worked up. When he finally pushes the material aside and makes contact with her slick folds, they both gasp softly. 

“Loki, make me come,” Darcy groans, arching into his hand, relishing in the sensation of his long digits stroking at her hot core. She hisses as his thumb grazes over her clit, the hyper-sensitive area sending a jolt through her body. 

“Do you like it when I touch you there, my pet?” Loki asks with a calculating grin, running his thumb once more over her nub. Darcy’s whole body rocks against his hand in response, and she leans into his chest as his hand continues to slide against her. 

“ _Yes_ ,” She breathes into the crook of his neck, and it’s more than enough encouragement for him. 

Darcy rolls her hips against him, unable to form any coherent sentence but a string of “oh”s over and over again, each one in tandem with the pump of his fingers. She can feel her orgasm rising in her, the warm and tight sensation building at her core. 

“Let go for me, Darcy,” Loki commands softly in her ear, “Let me feel your walls tighten against my fingers.” 

Darcy clenches her fingers tight on his shoulders at his words, driving the height of her orgasm even higher. With a few more strokes of his thumb against her nub, her climax finally comes, and she feels herself shattering around him. She sobs violently into the crook of his neck as he forces her to ride out her pleasure, his fingers still stroking at her walls. Darcy’s sure she’s never felt so much bliss in her life. 

“Darcy Lewis…” Loki purrs while she comes down from her high. He wraps his arms around her back, and she lets herself breathe in his scent as she sighs contentedly. He kneads her back in small circles, his voice low as his lips touch her ear, “…you will be the death of me.”


End file.
